


Peanut Butter Vibes

by ellamaraschino



Category: Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Bill Hader - Freeform, Drug Use, M/M, No Smut, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, john mulaney - Freeform, sex drugs and rock n roll yknow what im sayin boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellamaraschino/pseuds/ellamaraschino
Summary: THIS WAS WRITTEN BEFORE THE NEWS OF JOHN MULANEY RECEIVING TREATMENT. THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION BASED NOT OFF HIS EXPERIENCES BUT TWO SNL CHARACTERS WHO ARE KNOWN TO PARTY EXCESSIVELY, IMPLYING THAT THEY USE RECREATIONAL DRUGS. IM STILL DETERMINING WHETHER OR NOT TO DELETE THIS WORK SO ENJOY WHILE YOU CAN. MUCH LOVE.—Whether it be ecstasy, cocaine, adderall, you fucking name it, they are always high when they're together. Stefon has seen a side to Shy no one else has and vice versa and he likes having access to that. It's like when peanut butter get stuck to the roof of your mouth. It's sweet, it's unhealthy and it's even a little addictive. In the most respectable sense possible and hopefully a compliment, Stefon knows no man more like that than Shy. So what do you do in that situation? You make it work.THERE!! AREN'T!! ENOUGH!! SHY!! AND!! STEFON!! FICS!!
Relationships: Shy & Stefon (Saturday Night Live), Shy/Stefon (Saturday Night Live)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Peanut Butter Vibes

He met him at a party, simple story. They did MDMA together, they hooked up, they called it a night. Like most of his hookups, Stefon figured it'd only happen once but fuck it, they're lifelong friends now. That's what happens when you try a brunch date with your one night stand and accidentally have too much in common. They never envisioned each other being more than that for multiple reasons that they discussed briefly in that cafe —

_"I have this girl I wanna—" Shy started to explain._

_"Yeah, I'm out too much—" Stefon waved him off._

_"Yeah."_

_"Yeah."_

— and nodded, sipping their lattes in mutual understanding.

But the initial attraction and obvious lust was still there not to mention a memorized, pavlovian effect from the narcotics they took that night and every time they get together, they do drugs. Whether it be ecstasy, cocaine, adderall, you fucking name it, they are _always_ high when they're together. Stefon has seen a side to Shy no one else has and vice versa and he _likes_ having access to that. It's like when peanut butter get stuck to the roof of your mouth. It's sweet, it's unhealthy and it's even a little addictive. In the most respectable sense possible and hopefully a compliment, Stefon knows no man more like that than Shy. So what do you do in that situation? You make it work.

* * *

The two are lounging lazily in some snobby hotel bar they don't even remember entering. They were just rushed in by their laughing friends trying to escape the aggressive men with their flood of flashing cameras outside. . . well, not exactly friends. More like coworkers; hollywood coyotes; flyaways in the industry. Shy is still new to all this, merely accompanying his friend and certainly lives up to his name, sipping carefully on a martini with black latex-clad legs crossed politely, not initiating conversation until spoken to first (which Stefon understands is probably best from his experience in the limelight, if you will). The room is empty save for the two men and six other only television-familiar people, drinking, smoking and trying desperately to get the latest and greatest gossip about Seth Meyers. Someone even had to audacity to ask Stefon how big he was, like he was a no more than a secret pathway to getting _that_ enlightenment. After the initial surprise, he joked that he was working on finding out and grinned, hooking his tongue around his right canine. They love that kinda shit, eating it up like homoerotic scraps to a pack of dogs. It makes them feel progressive.

"Shy." quietly addresses Stefon, spinning around on the bar stool he's posted on with one knee over the other. Shy is relaxing on a couch in front of him, or as much as he can in this kind of energy.

"Yes, Stefon." came the radio announcer response from his lawyer, reclining his neck back to find his friend. Stefon's eyes are half-lidded, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thick.

Oh.

"Meet me upstairs in five?" he murmurs, trying to sound casual, gaze fixed on his nails with the upmost nonchalance before azure eyes discretely flicker down to the attorney before him to try and silently alert him of the urgency.

Shy stares at him over this shoulder without response, doe-eyed and blinking softly in question. Business or pleasure?

Stefon sets his tensing hand down and lifts his chin, finally meeting Shy's gaze in full. "You asked me to look over that file, remember?" he lies, tone dripping messily with far more haste than the last. Shy recognizes it fast.

"Ah, yes of course." the lawyer smiles confidently, eyes glimmering in caged excitement. Fuck, it's going to be a _good_ night after all.

A new voice chimes into their exchange, as if having just noticed they were talking and feeling the need to interject it's presence. Typical Tinseltown. That's how you know someone is from the business and not the bronx.

"Oh, how _illegal!_ Sharing documents, darling?" chortles some blonde, A-list manager that probably controls the career of three oscar nominees but no one actually knows her name. "Isn't that _most_ unprofessional?" She steals a swig from her champagne glass, worming up a smile throughout the tease. She's far too drunk to remember this conversation tomorrow and too rich to even care. It's safe to say Stefon isn't worried about it.

"That's exactly what it is." Stefon pulls his sleeves farther up to his knuckles, shooting her a playful smile (like a gay friend). He fucking **hates** it in here. It's hot, and filled with snobby celebrities completely devoid of a personality not scripted or bought for them. He only enjoys the nightlife when it's bright neon and far too crowded to give anyone the kind of personal attention he's being bombarded with from all angles right now.

Shy rises, drink still in hand and nods to the staircase, meeting his friend's exhausted gaze head on. "Actually I could use that second opinion now if that's alright with you, Stefon."

"Oh really?" Now Stefon is looking up to him.

"Yeah."

"Great." The correspondent nods and excuses himself from the company they came with. "Goodnight everyone."

* * *

Shy is slammed so hard against the wall, they almost knock a picture frame over. They only kiss once but it lasts far more than a few seconds, each of them panting _hard_ by the time they pull away. That isn't what Stefon brought him up for or at least not _entirely_. Shy _knows_ what he wants.

"You needed to get out of there?" Shy murmurs, hand on the other's chest to keep him still. Stefon dips beneath his chin to nibble at his neck, nodding quickly.

"Yeah."

"Noticed. Can I interest you in a line?"

" _Please_. ."

"Take your pick."

"The usual."

The expensive hotel room coffee table is now adorned with six white lines of _good_ coke, courtesy of Shy's connections, and the two are sitting on the floor beside each other. They aren't wasting time tonight. They each get three.

**One**.

"Fuck." Stefon murmurs, sniffing anything he missed.

"Y'alright?" Shy snorts his _right_ up and turns to his friend like he's **new** at it.

" _Oh **god**_ , yeah." he pants, falling back from his knees and turning to Shy. "You?"

"You know _I'm_ alright." Shy grins, teasing a soft, almost high-pitched laugh. He knows his way around a line, Stefon knows that much.

"I still _ask_ , fiend." he purrs.

**Two**.

This round is silent. For these two, given the frequency of these kinds of nights, **two** is the bridge to the final challenge. **Two** is the bridge to three and three is utter _euphoria_. The two wait a bit before the third. Per usual, they're considering if they've had _just_ enough fun for the night before finally exchanging that mutual 'who the fuck do you think you're kidding' glance and simultaneously going in for the kill.

**Three.**

Shy unsuccessfully stifles back a whimper as he practically licks the plate after his turn. Stefon grins and lets his head fall back, unable to keep from giggling. Oh, everything is so much _faster_ now! _Everything_ is possible!

Stefon quickly wipes the rest of the powder up with the pad of his thumb as if someone might find it, presenting it to his attorney's mouth. Shy takes one moment to notice what he's doing and eagerly inches toward him, stumbling onto his knees before steadying himself to close his lips over it. His hot, wet tongue swirls around Stefon's skin and repletes the last of it. Soft blue irises flicker up to the correspondent's and Stefon feels his heart rate increase, especially with the help of the drugs. He feels Shy's tongue circle him once again and he presses his thumb deeper into his mouth, wanting to watch as he gags. The lawyer's breath hitches and he relaxes his throat, feeling the outer corners of his eyes prick with water. A soft moan is heard and _felt_ behind Shy's throat. He blinks away the tears, never breaking the gaze like he might win a prize.

He just might.

* * *

The next morning, sun spills into the room through white curtains breezing about and occasionally revealing a view to the bustling city below. This would be beautiful if Stefon weren't so fucking hungover.

"Morning, sunshine!" claps Shy loudly, having already gone on a run and bought them both a coffee. "Thin mint swirl extra-extra. On the table. I have a meeting." he pulls on one sleeve of his leather jacket and shrugs on the other one, scanning the shirtless man sprawled out under in the cloud-like hotel sheets. "There's also a breakfast sandwich in there and a bagel with peanut butter." He'd remind him how important it is to have breakfast after a night like **that** but he's certain Stefon is well aware. Anyone else less practiced in the dark, perilous art of cocaine would need to be told again and again. But besides all that, Stefon doesn't eat that much anyway like he's some sort of beautiful, eldritch creature with ethereal sustainability so it applies far more to a user like him. Sometimes it infuriates Shy how careless he is.

"Mhm. Thanks Shy." Stefon mumbles into his pillow, one eye peeking out from under the soft fabric and flickering sleepily up to his friend. "Have a good day at work _sweetie_." he jokes, accentuating his lisp as he does on the show and lazily waving him goodbye.

"Eat." Shy points at him, semi-solemnly. "I'm serious."

"I will. I will."

"At least eat the peanut butter. For protein."

A sudden smirk presses beneath the silky pillowcase and a soft huff is breathed into the material. "Mm'kay." purrs Stefon.

Shy is halfway out the door now with his briefcase in hand, stopping in his tracks and tilting his head like he missed something important. "What?"

"Nothing. Have a good conference, sweets."


End file.
